


While Venice Burns

by mooglecharm (morphaileffect)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/mooglecharm
Summary: As Altissia burned, as tall spires fell and walls crumbled into the surrounding water, two men, momentarily forgotten by the forces of Fate, danced by the sea.
Relationships: Ravus Nox Fleuret/Ignis Scientia
Kudos: 10





	While Venice Burns

**Author's Note:**

> Initially wanted to title this "While Rome Burns," but if we’re going to be anachronistic anyway, let’s use the actual city that inspired Altissia! Meaning no disrespect to the REAL Venice or her people, of course ^^
> 
> Insonori does not exist in FFXV canon. "Insonorizzata" is just one of my favorite ever words, I had to throw it into fic somehow :D;
> 
> Set in one of the "rest stops" in Altissia, after Ignis and Ravus team up in Episode Ignis.

For ordinary people, it would have been difficult to sleep in the middle of so much chaos, with the ground quaking every few minutes from nearby explosions.

But clearly, Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret was no ordinary person.

At least, he _looked_ to Ignis as if he were asleep. He was sitting in a shadowed corner, leaning forward with his elbows (one flesh and bone, one magitek metal) resting on his thighs, his head bowed. Shoulder-length strands of white hair obscured his face, like a veil.

Ignis was having trouble sleeping. And when that happened, he did one thing. It was a thing which his good friends, like Noct, Gladio and Prompto, already knew about him - but which new acquaintances, such as the First Son of Tenebrae, may find...

 _Unusual_ was a mild way to put it.

 _Weird_ would be closer to the truth.

When he was in school, training in various martial arts, he learned of an ancient practice from a now-extinct country known as Insonori. It was somehow supposed to relax a person before sleeping.

It was an exercise that, to untrained eyes, would come across as dancing.

Alone.

Ignis sighed. Even if it was just a matter of personal superstition, going through the traditionally prescribed motions really did help him sleep.

It might look strange, but it was nothing he had to explain to anyone. It was just something that needed to be done.

So he did it.

Banking on the hope that Ravus Nox Fleuret, First Son of Tenebrae - and extremely new traitor to the Niflheim army - really was asleep, Ignis got to his feet, and started to move them.

Two steps fast. Two steps slow.

He had to repeat it ten times, at least. More, if the tension in his muscles required it.

The ritual relied greatly on lower body motions: hip movements, belly tautness.

But Ignis suspected the relaxation came less from the actual movements, than from the feeling of _gliding_.

He closed his eyes. He savored this moment of peace, in the middle of the unrelenting battlefield. He willed himself to relax, to surrender to the gentle pace that his own body set...

And then he felt a cool hand clasping his own, another body standing close to his. The chill of long metal claws settled lightly on his waist.

His eyes flew open, and immediately met the gaze of the High Commander of the Niflheim army.

A glint of amusement hiding deep within his icy stare - only visible because Ignis was standing close enough to see it.

“What is it,” Ravus asked quietly, “that you think you’re doing?”

Ignis stepped back, but couldn’t go far - Ravus’ metal hand on the small of his back made sure he was trapped in place.

By all rights, this should have triggered Ignis’ “fight or flight” senses.

Yet, he sensed no threat. Tenebrae’s dispossessed prince was looking down at him with sheer curiosity - and maybe a hint of mocking.

There was not even a hint of animosity, which was what mattered.

“An...Insonorian exercise,” Ignis truthfully disclosed. “For relaxation.”

A bomb exploded somewhere nearby. The ground shook briefly. Ravus’ face betrayed no shock or surprise. His firm hold on Ignis made sure that neither of them lost footing.

“Trouble sleeping?” Ravus asked, with as much familiarity as if he were an old friend...which Ignis found very weird, indeed.

But before Ignis could answer, he icily followed up with “That’s because you were doing it wrong. If you did those steps on your own, it would take your body twice as long to feel calmer. The original practice was conceived as a two-man endeavor. And it was less an ‘exercise’, as it was this.”

Right after saying “this,” and still holding on to Ignis, Ravus started to move:

Two steps fast, two steps slow.

The rhythm was familiar, but the patterns formed by his steps were foreign to Ignis. He immediately willed his own feet to move in time, so that they would not be trod on, or swept off the ground.

“Let me tell you about Insonori,” Ravus said, seemingly too focused on how he led their joined bodies around, to even glance at Ignis’ face. “Hundreds of years ago, it existed as a nation of scholars and artists. Among their many accomplishments was the development of a set of movements, which they taught to the military and royalty of neighboring Tenebrae as a martial art.

"However, after Insonori was razed to the ground by Niflheim forces, after all its libraries were burned, little documentation remained of this art. It managed to survive through the years - as a form of dance to the people of Tenebrae, and as a vague form of calisthenic exercise to others who may remember.”

Ignis already knew this. Well...most of this. He knew that Insonori was completely wiped out by Niflheim hundreds of years ago. He knew that Niflheim committed genocide in an attempt to eradicate Insonori’s cultural heritage, much like it did to all the other nations it destroyed, instead of conquering.

He also knew that Insonori’s martial arts were one of the very few things that survived its destruction, even if no one knew the _exact_ teachings anymore.

What he did not know was that Tenebrae kept Insonori’s legacy safe as a dance.

“That would make sense,” Ignis thoughtfully remarked. ”If it were a two-man exercise...it would pass down through tradition as a dance.”

Ravus made a vague sound of assent.

Then a suspicious look crossed the prince’s face. “How came you by such obscure knowledge, about a nation long gone?”

There was no reason to lie about this. “Part of my education as a servant of the Lucian Crown,” Ignis confessed, “was to receive extensive lessons in history and diplomacy, to which ordinary children did not have access.”

“So,” Ravus observed, “as if you were King Regis’ successor.”

Ignis could have denied it.

In fact, his impulse, as a protector of the Throne of Lucis, was to shoot down the _very idea_.

But it was just the truth: he’d received _more_ education than children from other noble houses did.

The Crown Prince should have taken the same lessons with him. Except, inexplicably, the King had decided that his biological successor would only sit through the lessons he actually _liked_.

(Which was pretty much none of them.)

“I’m driven to wonder,” Ravus continued with surprising softness, “if it were you and not Noctis promised to the line of Tenebrae...would we still find ourselves here, like this?”

Ignis had to do a double take on the phrasing. Ravus did not, after all, say “heir to the throne of Lucis.” Nor “heir to the Ring of the Lucii”, or to the guardianship of the Crystal.

Instead, he said “promised to the line of Tenebrae.”

And not even the Oracle.

Getting to the heart of what Ravus was saying brought a rush of heat up to Ignis’ neck and face.

Along with the realization that they were still dancing.

And they _were_ , in fact, dancing - there was no disputing that. As Altissia burned, as tall spires fell and walls crumbled into the surrounding water, two men, momentarily forgotten by the forces of Fate, danced by the sea.

Ignis spared a moment to remember that Altissia was known as the City of Love. And he stood in its ruins with a man who was supposed to be his enemy, yet who now held him so gently, gazed at him with what seemed to approach fondness.

He realized that he felt relaxed. And Ravus must feel the same.

Whether it was an exercise or dance, the Insonorian ritual worked for both of them.

And it was less because of the feeling of gliding, as it was because of this feeling of closeness - of bodies moving together, as the rest of the noisy world fell away.

Breaking apart felt like a mutual decision. But Ignis was surprised when his fingers tightened a bit around the prince’s human hand, before finally letting go.

He was even more surprised when Ravus bowed before him, and there was no element of mocking there. It was as if he was bowing before a peer, at the very least.

Ignis returned the bow, placing his hand on his chest as a member of the Insomnian royal family would, to express gratitude.

“Sleep,” Ravus instructed. “We will need our strength in the morning.”

“Indeed,” Ignis replied. “Rest well, my lord.”

It occurred to him, vaguely, that he should not have used "my" in that statement. He was no subject of Tenebrae.

But if Ravus wasn't going to make a big deal of the slip, then neither was he.

Ravus returned to his shadowed corner, but this time slumped against the wall. A few deep breaths, and he was asleep again.

Ignis already felt his muscles losing strength as he sat down near the prince. The explosions and tremors all around him came to him as soothing whispers now.

His gaze rested on Ravus’ sleeping face, as he himself drifted off.


End file.
